Kleptomania
by Iceworth
Summary: After the death of a Brother at Lucien's hands, Teinaava watches it hit Ocheeva particularly hard.


_(**A/N:** Oblivion belongs to Bethesda, not to me. Etc.)_

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_The screaming stopped at last, and silence hung in the cold air of the Sanctuary. Teinaava's hand tightened on his rigid sister's shoulder. Tentative footsteps arrived beside him, as those of the Family who hadn't been watching crept from their hiding places, keeping a wary distance from their Speaker.

"There," the Speaker wiped his dagger on his robes. The bloodstains clung, nearly invisible on the dark fabric, except for black, tell-tale patches. "May Sithis forever feed on his soul."

A shrill laugh answered him, and Teinaava felt his twin twitch beneath his grasp. A blonde Breton grinned, the only person who had dared step so close to the hooded man. Her boots stuck lightly to the stained marble as she took a step back to admire his work. "_That_," she said. "was _good_. It's been too long…"

"Indeed it has, Antoinetta," the Speaker met her cold eyes with his own, a wry smirk twisting his lips. "It's been what, an entire day since you killed?"

The orc who stood behind Teinaava muttered. "It's going to take me a while to scrub the blood from my boots."

"It's a pity," said the Speaker, looking down at his robes. The soaked hem dragged as he moved, leaving red smudges on the marble. "I'd only just _washed_ this. Someone take care of Jacques, will you?"

"Martha." Teinaava jumped as his sister finally spoke, shrugging off his grip. A dark guardian clattered towards her, skeletal fingers flexing. "Dispose of the body. Leave it in the basement, we will dispose of it tonight, if Vicente is not hungry."

The dark guardian stepped into the pool of blood, stooping to pick up the limp body in the centre. It stirred and groaned, but the skeleton ignored it, lumbering away.

"He's still _alive_?" Antoinetta scowled. She looked to her Speaker hopefully, but the man's eyes settled on Ocheeva instead.

"Apparently so," he said smoothly. "But not for long."

Ocheeva stood as still as a statue, staring down at the blood on the floor. Without a word, the Speaker turned on his heel and strode towards the well entrance. Teinaava touched his sister's shoulder, but she didn't come out of whatever trance that had claimed her.

"That's what you get for stealing," he said to Jacques' memory. He glanced up to see M'Raaj-Dar lurking, half behind a pillar.

"That," said the wide-eyed khajiit. "Is a _lot_ of blood. I could have just cooked him, you know. Less mess, less effort."

"Did you hide for _all of it_, M'Raaj-Dar?" Antoinetta rounded on him. "You're a coward, aren't you? Hmph. You truly don't appreciate what Lucien _does_ for us, do you?"

"Not everybody _watched_, Antoinetta," growled the orc. "I enjoy a good bloodbath myself, but some people don't like getting close to Lucien when he's angry."

"_Somebody's_ got a blood fetish, and it isn't Vicente." The bosmer beside him flicked her eyes to Antoinetta. Teinaava stood alert at his sister's side, tail perked as if ready to attack anybody who neared. Still, Ocheeva stood unblinkingly. Teinaava discreetly nudged her, but she still didn't move. Antoinetta saw, and snorted.

The massive door to the Sanctuary banged shut as the skeleton lumbered back in, red staining its bones. "Martha needs a bath," Antoinetta declared, then flitted off to the training room. Teinaava heard a last cackle before a slam cut it out of the air.

Ocheeva turned without a word and walked away.

Teinaava blinked, and followed her into her office. He turned to close the doors behind him. "We'll have to get Martha to clean up the mess, or it'll stain," he said.

"I suppose Jacques deserved it," Ocheeva's quiet voice made Teinaava shudder as she sank onto her bed. That faraway look in her eyes still lingered, and Teinaava felt his heart lift into his throat. "He _did_ get angry at Lucien."

_I can't help it, I can't help it! It just happens! I'm sorry, I try - _

"He stole from you," said Teinaava. "Twice, even after being warned, even after the Wrath. It was only right to inform Lucien."

Ocheeva lifted her eyes to look at something past Teinaava. He turned around to follow her gaze – _oh_. The trapdoor. If Vicente wasn't asleep, he could very well hear them…

He couldn't blame her for not wanting Vicente to hear. She was the Mistress of the Sanctuary, after all. She wasn't supposed to be unnerved by this. She was supposed to report misbehaviour to Lucien. Even if, like Jacques claimed, the Sibling in question couldn't help it. Even if the Sibling had been one of her best friends.

"If he's awake, he'd have gone to see the second he smelt the blood," said Teinaava in a low voice, but he lowered himself onto the bed beside Ocheeva. "You're not… in doubt, are you?"

"No," said Ocheeva, but her mouth barely moved and Teinaava knew she was lying. If he didn't know his own sister better…

He'd never tell Lucien, but he was more faithful to his sister than Sithis. Lucien had found out when he was little and tried to stamp it out of him with punishment and dedicated prayer to Sithis, and though his loyal streak had never died, Teinaava had played along to placate his adoptive father. "No doubts," he murmured to Ocheeva, but she still stared through the floor as if watching Jacques get punished, over and over again. His voice lowered to a whisper. "Don't doubt. You can't."

"I _don't_…" Ocheeva murmured, but she still had that _haunted_ look in her eyes. Ocheeva had been raised with the Brotherhood, had completed her own assignments – but never, ever had she seen somebody she considered _family_ so brutally treated. _Torture_, thought Teinaava. What had happened was _torture_. Teinaava had never seen Lucien be so _cruel_, so _livid_…

And poor Jacques hadn't known what hit him. It had only been minutes but it felt like a century to Teinaava, who'd stood there watching in mute horror. So many cuts, so many bruises, and even after he'd crumpled and couldn't defend himself anymore Lucien kept going. He crushed the Breton's nose, and blood streamed which threatened to drown him, only one of so _many_ wounds…

Teinaava stopped the shudder which threatened to run through him.

"Just pretend it never happened," he said. And he remembered the first time he'd said that to her. They'd been fifteen, and Ocheeva had just completed her first assignment and dragged her brother behind a pillar, her worried whispers chilling Teinaava's heart as she spoke. _You know how we're all brothers and sisters?_

_Yes?_ It had been a stupid question, and Ocheeva didn't _ask_ stupid questions, which only worried him further.

_What if my assignment was as close to someone and they were upset at their death as I would be if somebody killed you?_ Her eyes had been wide, her face twisted with _guilt_, of all things.

He'd guided her back to faith back then, too. _You wouldn't be upset if I died_, he'd said with the same stern voice Lucien used on them when he taught them of their dedication to Sithis. _I would have done so only because Sithis deemed it time. And if Sithis wants me to sit at his side in the afterlife, you would not be upset._

Her orange eyes had gleamed with scepticism. Words hung there, unsaid: _but I'd still miss you_. Instead, she nodded and straightened up. _You're right. _

And before she'd left his side to report to Vicente, he'd said, _just pretend it never happened_.

"Just pretend it never happened," he said again. He looked at her, and he saw she was too far gone.

She sat staring into nothingness, and Teinaava knew that she would for a long time. He touched her cold shoulder again. She blinked, but did not otherwise move.

"I'll take care of the mess," he said, standing up.

Even though he made as much noise as he could opening the door in the hopes that it would jerk her from her reverie, she sat unflinching.

--

Teinaava ordered Martha clear away the blood, and Vicente stormed up, incredibly cranky. "Did you _have_ to make all that racket in Ocheeva's – " He stopped, blinking at the mop and bucket. "I thought I smelt - what _happened_?"

"Lucien happened," said Teinaava. "He took exception to Jacques' kleptomania."

"Oh dear," said Vicente, looking down with cool detachment. _That's it. "Oh dear."_ "Well," the vampire said. "that's what you get for breaking the tenets, he's lucky Lucien didn't do it sooner. Must've caught him on a bad day."

"Indeed," said Teinaava. Vicente gave him a wary, sideways look. "I still think he should've just let _you_ take care of him. Feed on him as a warning."

"I'm not hungry today," said Vicente. "I don't like traitor blood, either. I'm going to return to sleep, and _please_ keep it down next time you visit Ocheeva."

"Of course," said Teinaava with a respectful nod, and the vampire plodded off. Teinaava glanced at Martha, who operated the mop with jagged, magic-dictated movements.

"Did you ever see stuff like this when you were Speaker?" he murmured to her. He could have sworn the skeleton tilted her head a little as if she'd heard, but the mop kept moving, and the skeleton kept working.

Teinaava sighed.

The twins were the worst possible Shadowscales that ever existed.

--

That evening, when Vicente was up and about again and Antoinetta Marie had curled up on her bed with a blissful smile on her face as she relived Jacques' grisly demise in her dreams, Teinaava found his sister trapped in those same memories. In all afternoon, he could see, she hadn't moved from her position on the bed and she still stared into nothingness.

_Time to snap her out of it_, thought Teinaava. He shook her slightly. "Ocheeva," he said. "You have work to do, remember. Nothing happened today, it's just been a normal day and the paperwork's piling up."

It worked – she stirred, ever so slightly, beneath his touch. "We never had that Brother," she murmured.

"What Brother?" said Teinaava.

"Exactly," this time Ocheeva smiled at him. It didn't look forced, but it didn't reach her eyes, didn't make them light up like they usually did. "Teinaava, I _do_ have work to do…" she frowned.

Teinaava fished it out of her desk. "Lucien's dumped more work on you, has he?" he said, snorting at the stack of papers he found. Ocheeva sat at the table, a bottle of ink in her hands. "Sithis, he never gives you _this_ much."

"He delivered it last week, I've been… neglectful," said Ocheeva.

Teinaava wondered if Jacque's death had been the first thing to make Ocheeva doubt, lately. That hesitation before her final word made him feel cold.

"Make sure you don't do it again," he said, dropping the stack with a loud thud onto the table in front of him. The vampire downstairs snarled at the sudden sound. "It sets a poor example for the rest of us."

"Of course, dear Brother," said Ocheeva, setting herself on the chair and unscrewing the ink. "May the Night Mother wrap you in her cold, loving embrace," she said as he left the room.

_Huh_, he thought. _That's a new one_.

After that day, she would say it often. Always with that same, absent look in her eyes that had came that day. That cold gaze, the fake smirk.

After Jacques died, so did Ocheeva's smile.


End file.
